Say Hello To My Little Friend

A few weeks a go, my son and I were on our way towards home, a short trip to the variety for milk. Terri poked her head outside of her front door.
"You want a cat?" she asked.
"No," I replied.
"Well, how about a kitten?"
"O.K." I replied back that time and watched a smile spread across my son's face.
"You better pick the cutest one," I threatened him, as we walked up Terri's steps.
And so the parade began.
One unfortunate kitten had lost his paw, after birth. A neglectful mother bothered not with umbilical cords, and his own had twisted around his foot, and now the stump thumped on the floor, when he walked. Thus he was named, 'Thumper'.
An ugly cat with a ugly brown circle of fur above her lip was fondly called 'Madonna"; Terri laughed, bent, as she sputtered the name.
The other four were called Cat. Or sometimes, Kitty.
I had not even looked over the other four, when my son held out a small ball of grey fur.
"She is the cutest," he said.
"It is a boy," said Terri.
So, my son and I took the grey cat home. Heliked being outside. His heart did not race.
"What shall we name this cat?" I asked my son, as the kitten reached for my shoulder, to eye everything better.
"Flower," he said.
"It's a boy," I said.
"I like Flower," he said.
"He does not look like a Flower," I said, outloud.
We thought awhile, and when we arrived inside our front door and let the kitten down to explore, my son said, "Prowler."
And I said, "Okay."

Two days later, Company came, and Company informed me that Prowler was a girl.
The next morning, when I broke the news to my son, he was rather upset.
"How do you know?" he asked me.
"Charles told me," I admitted.
My son demanded we re-name the kitten Flower.
"She does not look like a Flower," I said, outloud.
That is when the kitten poked her nose out from under the couch.
"Come here, Flower," said my son.
"Come here, Prowler," said I.
And the kitten came to me.
So, I won the name game.
My seven year old son asked me to move out.